


Moving - Duncan

by nancy, Zen



Series: Left of Center [10]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: BDSM, M/M, POV First Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nancy/pseuds/nancy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zen/pseuds/Zen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really just a PWP. The boys explore just a bit further into the s/m factors in the relationship. Duncan's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving - Duncan

**Author's Note:**

> Story title borrowed without permission from Kate Bush.
> 
> Thanks to Maygra for all her inspiration and encouragement.
> 
> This story was first published years ago at http://hos.slashcity.com/ and is archived here for preservation and accessibility.

The water is perfectly calm today, it's a beautiful morning. I'm glad I came up here and let him sleep in. I'm calm, and my form is good. The kata warms up my blood, it feels good to work up a sweat in the chilly spring air. 

When I've finished I go back inside, being as quiet as I can in case he's still sleeping. He's in the shower, I can hear the water running. I'm tempted to join him, I'm hot and sticky from the workout, but maybe that's not such a good idea. He seems to need all the space he can get in the mornings. I don't mind waiting. 

I know he won't eat anything this early, so I don't bother with a real breakfast. I make toast for myself, wondering if he's going to stay in there all day. I may have to think about a larger hot water heater for this place. He comes out with a towel wrapped around his waist, looking more awake than I expected him to be. He strolls across the living room, coming over to me at the counter. You look happy, Methos. Is it possible that I finally did something right here? 

He slips between me and the counter, kissing me softly. 

"Good morning, Duncan." 

"Mmm, that's nice. Good morning," he looks like the cat that swallowed the canary. "How did you sleep?" 

His eyes laugh back at me, his arms around my waist pull me close. His skin is warm from the hot shower, he smells wonderful. "Very well." 

I kiss him again. Not 'good morning' this time, more like 'I love you madly'. 

He releases me, smiling, "What do you have to do today?" 

Convince you that I love you more than anyone else ever has. "Absolutely nothing. And yourself?" 

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter top, "Oh, I don't know, work on my journal. I should make some calls, get some of my things out of storage. I could have them shipped over here." 

So casual, when he's giving me everything I want. How does he pull it off? He looks so innocent. I can't quite believe he's really staying. It's too good to be true. 

"That sounds good. There's a few things I should do around here, but nothing urgent. Do you want me to make more coffee?" 

"No, I'm fine. I am, however, running out of clothes. Unless you want me to walk around in a towel all day you're going to have to let me borrow something to wear."] 

"Oh, I don't know, should I?" I ask him, one finger slipping under the corner of the towel around his waist. It would be so easy... 

"Only if you want to get anything accomplished today." 

Now that's a ridiculous question, of course I want you to parade around here nude all day. I suppose I have to be a gentleman. 

"Not really," I think if I'm going to lose the sight of him wandering around in a towel I should get another kiss. Oh, he tastes good. Isn't he the one who's always making fun of my chivalry? It's only because he loves it, in spite of himself, I know it. "But you're welcome to raid my wardrobe." 

"I'll do that," he pulls me close, our bare skin pressing against each other. I get so hungry for his skin, he feels so heavenly in my arms. He lets go of me, sighing. Is it like this for you, Methos? Does it make you ache, just to feel the touch of my skin? He smiles at me, wandering back across the barge to my dresser. 

I take my toast and coffee to the couch, picking up the morning paper I brought in with me. I can hear him dressing, but I don't dare look. If I do, I'll jump him. It's crazy, that even the sight of his body is still too much for me. I wonder if I'll ever be able to look at him without needing him. I doubt it. 

He comes back wearing a black turtleneck sweater that's too tight on me, and my most ragged pair of blue jeans. Devastating, Methos, and you did it on purpose. You're well aware of your charms, Old Man. 

My eyes rake slowly down his body, enjoying the way the sweater emphasizes his sharp shoulders and the way the faded blue jeans hang off his hips. 

"Hmm...wicked." 

"Thank you, I'm sure Morgan would approve as well." 

She can approve all she likes, as long as she keeps her hands off you. You identify with the strangest people, Methos. "You make the oddest friends. What in the world did you two find to talk about?" 

He shrugs, smiling, "Oh, the basics. Hunger, need, fatal desire, self destruction..." 

"Real upbeat kind of girl, isn't she?" 

What in the world are you talking about, Methos? You had a philosophical discussion about self destruction with a child not a hundredth of your age, in a bar so loud I couldn't even hear her shouting over the music? You are so strange sometimes. Fatal desire. Do you mean me? Is that how you feel about me? I don't know weather to be pleased or disturbed. How can a man who has survived fifty centuries know anything about the kind of self destruction that girl practices? I saw the scars all over her hands... I've never understood self mutilation. The priests used to do that, too, hurt themselves and make something holy of it. What is it that you're both hungry for, Methos? Is it just freedom from responsibility, not being held accountable for your actions, or is it something more? 

"Oh yes, I think she is. It's all relative, MacLeod. Do you mind if I call Rome?" his voice brings me back. 

"No, go right ahead, Methos. It's your phone, too, okay?" 

I hold my breath, wondering if I've pushed it too far. He takes a deep breath, and turns to smile at me. 

"Okay." 

Okay? Really? I feel like setting off firecrackers, or dancing a jig. 

He goes to the cordless on the kitchen counter, hopping up to sit cross legged on the counter. Inside, I'm laughing with happiness, he can tap dance on my counter tops for all I care. He wants to play casual, I can do that. I make myself go back to my paper, as if he isn't making plans to live here. 

He's arguing with someone on the other end in Italian, it doesn't sound like he's making much progress. When I look up again he's wandering around the kitchen, pulling things out of the cabinets. He must be on hold, he's muttering to himself about the laziness of the Italians. He can be terribly superior and demanding. I don't think he has any idea what he sounds like. Twenty minutes later, he lets out a sigh of exasperation and hangs up the phone. I get up, going over to stand behind him, rubbing his tense shoulders. I only caught bits and pieces of his conversation, but it sounds like he was successful. I'll bet I'm going to end up paying for the shipping costs. I don't care one bit. 

"That was fun. Can I have a drink?" 

"Absolutely, you can have anything you want." 

"Scotch?" 

"Alright. Is that lunch?" I'm looking at the array of food items he's collected on the counter." 

"It could be," he allows, getting a big bowl down from the cabinet behind us. 

I bring him a drink, watching him add pasta to the pot of water boiling on the stove. It gives me so much satisfaction, watching him cook in my kitchen. I wonder if I'll ever get used to this? If it will ever be any less incredible to have him here. 

He makes us a cold pasta salad, much more simple than anything I expected from him. I get us bowls, and hand him a serving spoon. I follow him back to the couch, settling next to him. 

"This is really good, Methos." 

"Is it? Good. I wasn't sure you'd like it." 

"I like it whenever I don't have to cook, but this is delicious. It's so good to have you here with me." 

Yes, I know I'm smiling at him with a dopey look on my face, but I can't help it. 

"I'm happy too," he tells me quietly, picking up his bowl. 

"That's good. I want you to be. This is how it should be." It still amazes me, that he is really this easy to please, that being here with me will be enough to make him happy. 

His eyes smile at me, "You're a romantic, MacLeod, and I love you." 

"I am, heart and soul. But you bring it out in me. I think you do it on purpose, just so that you can smile at me like that." Actually, I know he does, but I'm not sure it's a good idea to tell him that. I think my ancient likes to be mysterious. 

"Like what?" 

"As if you are amused with me and pleased in spite of yourself," it's the safest truthful answer. I smile at him, putting down my empty bowl and moving closer. 

"I didn't realize I gave that much away." 

Don't worry, love, you're more than complicated enough. "I think I'm getting better at it." 

"Oh really? You think so? Well, I'll have to work on being more inscrutable." 

Well, at least he'll admit it now. It makes me laugh, we're so funny sometimes. I think if we ever get to the point of total honesty with each other, I won't know what to do with him. I stretch out on the couch, laying my head in his lap. 

"You're more than complicated enough, Old Man. Besides, if you changed at all you wouldn't be you. Don't ever change for me, Methos. I love you exactly as you are." 

He looks pleased. "You're the one who never changes, Mac. I've reinvented myself so many times I don't even know what I started with any more." 

My poor love, do you really feel that way? That must be awful. 

"I do," I tell him, "Strength. Courage. Passion. All the things I'm drawn to, those are the things you've always been." 

I look up at him, he looks as if he wants to doubt me. 

"You see me as no one else ever has, do you know that Duncan?" his hands are in his lap, playing with my hair. 

"Good, I don't want you to love me the way you've ever loved anyone else. I want all of you." 

It's true. Sometimes I feel like I just want to get inside him, to surround myself with his presence, his power. His quickening in my head taunts me, so much like having him touch me, and not. Not enough, not nearly enough of him. Our gaze turns from affection to passion. His cock twitches beneath my cheek, and I grin up at him. He leans down, meeting me halfway. His hand supports the back of my head, holding me up to his lips. When he kisses me like this, I just come apart inside, I can't do anything but melt. His tongue is demanding, pushing into my mouth until I'm gasping for air. 

"Kissing you is like touching a live wire," he whispers harshly, pulling me up against his chest. 

You have no idea, Methos. What you do to me is almost frightening, sometimes. It's your power, and the intensity with which you want me. You kiss me, and all I want to do is fall into you. I turn onto my side, sitting backwards on the couch to curl myself around him. His eyes are bright, he looks at me as if I belong to him. It makes me crazy, it makes me want to plead with him to prove it to me. 

His lips come down hard on mine. My tongue sneaks into his mouth, stroking the inside of his cheek lightly. His hand comes up between our bodies, his palm covering my throat. It sends a little thrill of fear through me, although I'm not sure why. He tilts my head back, kissing me more deeply. 

"I want to make you mine, completely," his voice is harsh against my mouth. 

"Please," I hear myself whisper. I can't even think, all I want to do is get closer to him. 

"Stand up. Take those off." 

It takes a second to process his words. He means the white cotton gi. I'd forgotten I had them on. 

Standing up, I pull the drawstring and they fall to the floor. Now I am standing naked in front of him. It's a strange kind of tension crackling in the air between us. The look in his eyes keeps me standing still, waiting for him to tell me what he wants. I think I already know. 

"You are so magnificent, Duncan, and you're mine," his smile is hard and predatory, but his eyes are almost gentle. He stands up, moving behind me, walking us over to the open space between the desk and the wall of the barge. I'm having a hard time remembering to breathe. 

I can feel him behind me, close, but not touching me anywhere. The anticipation makes me want to turn around, but I don't. I will gladly prove to him that I am his, in any way he needs to see it. 

He touches me, his hand only strokes down my back, but I shiver, waiting for whatever it is that I feel building between us to happen. His hands come around to my front, dragging me back against him. The impact with his chest is enough to make me exhale the breath I was holding, his palms on my chest pressing me tightly to his body. 

He whispers against my ear, "You're daring, giving yourself to me carte blanche like this Highlander. You may regret it." 

No, Methos, I won't, I don't care what you do to me, I need this. 

"Never," I hear myself groan, as his hands roam over my bare skin. His touch is not gentle, but not violent or aggressive, either. His hands are hard, squeezing muscles until I relax for him, and then moving to touch me somewhere else. It's as if his hands are telling me what he wants from me, to give in to him, to accept his touch, no matter what it makes me feel, whether pleasure or pain. 

"Turn around," he sounds different, his voice deeper. I turn around, and meet his eyes. There is something there I recognize, I think. Need, or maybe it's just savagery, but I'm past the point of caring. 

His hands come down on my shoulders and every muscle in my body tenses instinctively, but he surprises me, leaning in to kiss me softly. I'm too excited, I can't help it. I kiss him back desperately, begging him with my mouth for him to do something that will break this tension. 

As if he knows, exactly, his hands slide from my shoulders, slowly down my arms, to span my wrists. His grip is hard, challenging me to resist him, although he must know that I won't. The pictures his hands around my wrists provoke in my mind make me moan against his mouth, trying to lean closer. 

"Hold still for me, Duncan," his hand releases my left wrist to wrap around my cock, squeezing me warningly. 

"Mmm?" 

Oh, god, I knew you would be cruel, Methos. How? Hold still, when you're looking at me like that? Impossible. 

"Hush. I don't want you to say anything, nothing at all, unless you are absolutely sure that you want me to stop. Then say my name, and it will stop, instantly. Do you understand, Duncan?" 

I am dimly aware of the fact that he's just given me a safeword, his name. I'm not quite as innocent as he thinks I am, just because I've never done this before doesn't mean I haven't read about it. I wonder if I will be able to be silent, and what he will do if I can't? 

His hand tightens around my hard cock, cutting off circulation briefly and turning the burning inside me to pain and them back into pleasure so quickly I can only clench my teeth, and nod, watching his bright eyes. 

His fist releases me slowly, and I exhale, feeling fear tighten my spine as his hand moves down to cup my balls. 

The look in his eyes is enigmatic, I can't decide if that's approval or only speculation. He moves behind me again, and I have to make myself stand still, remembering that it's what he wants. It's so much harder, when I can't see him, see his eyes. I can't see him before he touches me, either, his hand at the back of my neck makes me flinch. He moves my hair out of the way, and his mouth is there, kissing me just below my hairline, making me shiver again. His teeth close over my skin, and he bites me, but I expected it, was waiting for the feeling of his teeth sinking into my skin from the first moment his lips touched me. It feels good, strong, as if his teeth will hold me still, hold me in place against his chest. It's the same as it was the night he took that boy's head, his mouth closes over me and I relax instantly. It is so strange, this feeling that courses through me when he bites me. 

His voice is soft in my ear, caressing me with it's power and it's vibration, "I want you to close your eyes, and breathe very slowly, concentrate on my touch, feel my hands on your body." 

I obey him, and his light touch becomes even more provocative. He has imprisoned me in a place where I can't see or speak, only wait for his voice and his touch on my body. It feels strange to be standing naked in the living room in the middle of the day, I couldn't have possibly imagined myself here, but I don't want to move. I want to hold still for him, to let him do anything he wants to me. Right now I'd let him kill me if he wanted to. I don't understand it at all, all I know is that it's a need so powerful that it makes me arch and strain against his light touch. His hands move quickly from my throat to my cock, making me gasp with the quick stroking, and then back up to my chest, before I can even think about making any noise. This feels so different with my eyes closed. 

He's still behind me, speaking quietly in my ear, "You're mine, Duncan, you're going to give yourself to me, you're going to let me do whatever I want with you, and you are going to like it." 

I force myself to concentrate on his words, inhaling slowly, taking deep, even breaths. 

"That's good, just like that," he croons softly, his hands moving possessively over my body. His fingertips are brushing lightly back and forth over my nipples, it's so hard not to make a sound. Ah, he knows, I know he does, his fingers close over my hardened flesh, twisting hard. Ah, god, Methos... I'm panting, trying so hard not to moan, or scream. It hurts, so good, so hot. I want more, but I can't hold still. My hips thrust forward, I can't help it. 

"I know you can hold still for me," he growls softly in my ear, taunting me, as his fingers crush my aching nipples, sending a shudder down to my neglected cock. His teeth close over my earlobe, nipping lightly. 

More, _please_ , more, Methos. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, locking my knees and trying to keep my balance. His teeth sink into my neck, biting hard. The pain sizzles through my brain like fire. His lips are wet with my blood, moving possessively over the place his teeth have cut. The rushing feeling behind my eyes gets more intense as he sucks harder, holding off the healing. 

I know I'm shaking, but my feet feel as if they're sunk in concrete. I know that I couldn't move or open my eyes or speak if I tried. He has me, and it feels so good. I realize I've bitten my lip, and that my breath is coming in noisy gasps. I start to panic, wondering if this counts as making noise, and try to slow my frantic breathing. 

He pulls away, and I'm conscious of being alone in the dark for only a second before his lips come down gently over mine. Ah, that's so nice, Methos, so soft. Please, kiss me just a little longer. I'll stand still for you, I promise, just kiss me. I need your tongue, I need your breath. 

I do my best to swallow my moan when he releases my mouth, pulling away from me very slowly. I can feel his breath on my cheek. His fingertips flutter over my cock and I shudder, not quite able to swallow the groan of pleasure. My body had almost forgotten about my aching hard on. I've been hard since the second time he kissed me, and his sensitive fingertips just keep grazing lightly back and forth over the tip. It's so light, he's just barely touching me, and it's driving me crazy. It feels so good it hurts, and I'm almost choking on the pleasure, swallowing the sounds that want to escape my throat. Oh god, Methos, please, you have to stop, you have to give me more... I can't think, I'm not sure I can breathe. I don't know if I'm standing still for him anymore or not, and still his fingertips flick lightly against me. 

Suddenly his touch is gone, and I'm dying with need. I need him to touch me, to bite me, to hurt me, anything. Only not this frightening emptiness, it feels like my heart stopped beating when he took his hands away. 

His fingers press against my lips, his voice is louder than it was before. 

"Suck." 

I unclench my jaw, and two fingers slide into my mouth. I suck greedily, running my tongue quickly up and down between his fingers, begging him to let me do this to his cock. Oh, that would feel so good, to have him in my mouth, to have him fill the only senses I have left with his feel and his smell. 

Suddenly his fingers are pulling out of my mouth and thrusting hard between the cheeks of my ass. 

"Oh god..." I groan, biting my lip and shaking my head when I realize I've spoken. Did I say his name? I don't think I did, but I can't remember. No, I couldn't have, because he's still pressing slowly into my body, his fingers twisting inside me. Ah, god, Methos, you're trying to kill me. 

"No. No talking," he tells me sternly. 

He leans in, his lips and then his teeth closing around my lower lip. My mouth is open, panting, and he bites down hard. My lip bleeds and I shudder, feeling him push deeper inside me. Ah, god, Methos, please, please... I don't even know if I'm begging him to stop or not to. I push my hips forward helplessly, trying to hold on to enough of my sanity to remember to keep silent. 

The sensations his fingers are provoking are so powerful I'm no longer even aware of where I am, or that I'm on my feet. His mouth is gone and I am almost shattered by the loss. I need him, I need his exhaled breath, his teeth. I whimper, but he doesn't talk to me. I wish he would, it's almost impossible to hold still, what he'd doing feels too good to imagine. I'm going to disintegrate in front of his eyes and still he won't stop. I'm dimly aware of the fact that I'm moving, rocking back and forth on his hand, but I can't make myself stop. I'm so close... 

His teeth close over my nipple, just hard enough to pull me back from the edge I was teetering on. The pain increases slowly, and my distressed brain finally makes the connection. No, Methos, please, I can't... But I can't imagine defying him, either. My hips jerk spasmodically, trying to refuse my order to stay still. Concentrate on the pain, not the pleasure, think about how you want to please him... 

When I am standing perfectly still, trembling, every muscle in my body tense and on the verge of cramping, he whispers in my ear. I can feel the sweat trickling down my back, and his fingers fluttering inside me. 

"You're getting a little too close, I think we have to do something to ensure your restraint. Don't move. I'm not going anywhere, keep your eyes closed," his voice is deep, sensual, commanding my attention. 

His fingers pull slowly out of my body and I can't hold back the moan of distress that comes out of me. Methos, please, you are so cruel. I wish I could see you right now, see your eyes. I'm trying to figure out exactly what this is I feel, whether this is agony or ecstasy. He's gone, and I'm paralyzed, my body begging mindlessly for his touch. I can hear him ripping cloth, and then what I think must be the drawstring of my gi is dragged slowly across my cock. I am so sensitive, even the slight burn of the cotton cord hurts. I can't remember ever being this hard, needing to come this badly. Suddenly, the cord is tight around the base of my cock, and I clench my teeth, telling myself not to move, over and over again. I hold still, shuddering, as he wraps the cord around my balls, and then around my cock again. The sensations are instantaneous and intense. It hurts, and it's like flying. Being held so very close to coming, and knowing for sure that I won't, that I can't anymore. It's a nightmarish kind of pleasure, so intense, throbbing in every part of my body. There is fire in my balls, and my cock is leaking continuously, fluid trickling down, tantalizing me with the idea of touch. 

His fingertips brush lightly across the head of my cock, and his breath caresses my ear. Both make me shudder helplessly, and I have to force myself to concentrate on his voice. 

"Now you'll be quiet, won't you, my captive?" 

I nod slowly, biting my lower lip. This is almost more than I can bear, I need more, this light fluttering of his fingers over my aching flesh is going to make me scream. 

"Open your eyes, Duncan," his voice is so gentle, the threatening undertone gone completely. 

I open my eyes. The light is bright, and I blink rapidly, fighting a sudden rush of dizziness. He's still fully dressed, standing directly in front of me, his eyes are bright and dangerous. The sight of him is almost too much for me, I close I my eyes again for a moment, trying to control my shaking body. Please, Methos, please, please, please... I know I'm not making any noise, but my lips are moving, begging him for whatever agony he will inflict on my body next. 

He leans in to whisper in my ear, "Do you have any idea how appealing you are like this?" 

His fist closes gently around me , and I gasp, swallowing the moan as his hand pumps my cock. His tongue scrapes the outside of my ear. I'm shivering, burning, the ache in my balls almost too much to bear. He flicks the very tip my cock with his fingertips, and I'm so sensitive it feels as though he has slapped me. My hips jerk away from his hands, and his voice murmurs again in my ear. 

"Do you know, Duncan? Do you have any idea what it does to me to have you like this?" 

I pant back at him, my eyes wide. Yes, I know, I can see it in your eyes. I feel like I'm going to burn up. I want to rip off the cord he's tied around my cock and have his mouth on me, I want to come so badly I can't think of anything else. 

He steps back and I want to scream with frustration, but his hands are at the hem of the black sweater, pulling it slowly over his head. Ah, God, Methos, you are so beautiful, so dangerous. Please, don't tease me like this, you're going to kill me. His hand is outlining the erection in his jeans, taunting me, touching himself and watching my eyes with something close to greed. My hands ball into fists, and I force myself to breathe. The will to please him is the only thing holding me still. 

The breath I was trying to take catches in my throat as the ragged jeans fall from his hips, and I have to close my eyes. A small sound whistles through my clenched teeth, the ghost of the howl of frustration building in my chest. 

He moves behind me, pressing his naked flesh full length against me. It's electrifying, painfully exciting, the feel of him finally touching me, letting me feel his naked skin against me. Ah, Methos, please, now. My cock is throbbing, it hurts to be this hard... I need to come so badly, I can't think of anything else. I'm shaking, his arms come around me, his hands on my chest pulling me back against him, holding me still. 

His teeth nibble the back of my neck, taking little bites of my skin. I want him to bite me harder, to make it hurt worse than the pain in my groin. I need him to give me something else to focus on beyond my need for release. My breath comes in shuddering gasps, and it seems as though even this much movement sends shivers to my tied up cock. 

"Shh, I know, I know. You're so hard, it hurts so much, and you can't, you know you can't, I won't let you... I want to devour you, Duncan, I want to consume you. I want you to be nothing but what I give you, what I make you feel." 

His hand strays to my balls, stroking the swollen sac lightly with his fingertips. Perfect, intense, pleasure shoots through me, and I freeze in his arms. Ah, god, love, _yes_... Please don't stop Methos, it feels so good, like nothing I've ever felt before. So intense, I can feel his gentle petting in the core of my being, in every cell of my body. So incredibly good... 

"Mmm," I hear myself whimper, begging him not to take this touch away. 

Suddenly, his hand curls around me, closing tight around my swollen balls and tugging down hard. White hot pain races up my spine and I twist desperately in his arms. Ah, god, Methos, please, it hurts, please let go... my hips jerk helplessly towards his hand, trying to release the pressure. 

"Do you remember the word that will set you free, Duncan?" 

I know I have to force my throat to move, to form words, it's the only way he'll release me. 

" _Ahhh...yes_." 

I fling my head from side to side, begging him over and over again in my head to make it stop. The waves of pain make me shudder, flowing to my brain and blocking out all thought. Help me, Methos, please, you have to stop, you have to let me come. I feel like I'm going to explode. 

I don't recognize his voice in my ear, I can't feel anything but the shocking pain in my groin. 

"Do you belong to me?" 

" _I belong to you_!" I moan helplessly, and his hand releases me. The rush of blood is dizzying, almost sickening pain, followed by throbbing, intense pleasure. 

His hands hold onto my hips, as his cock thrusts slowly inside me. I'm fighting him, twisting away from the burning pain of penetration. I'm suddenly frightened of my bodies overwhelming response to this, I can't seem to hold still, or to get my balance. His fingers dig into my flesh, twisting and pinching until he has covered my hips and the tops of my thighs with purple bruises. I'm panting in his arms, my head dropped down to my chest, the breath hissing through my clenched teeth. I'm so close to breaking, I need to come so badly. I'm whimpering, unable to form the words to beg him to take me, to end this maddeningly slow thrust into my body. 

"Shh... Easy, breathe. This is what you want," his hand strokes soothingly down my back, as he pushes a little deeper inside me. Ah, yes, Methos, _please_. "Let it happen, let me in. That's it, just relax," he is crooning in my ear, pressing slowly forward until he is completely sheathed in my body. 

His palms come up to flatten on my chest, pulling me back against him as his cock begins to stroke slowly inside me. I am on fire, almost out of my mind with the pleasure coursing through me. I'm dimly aware of his teeth closing over my jugular, his mouth holding me still against him as his hand on my hip guides me back and forth on his cock. 

I'm in heaven, utter bliss. His hand pulling me smoothly onto his cock, rocking deep inside me, stroking and grinding until I think I will pass out, or float away on the pleasure. It seems to go on forever and ever, his deep, smooth thrusts and his hand gripping my hip, guiding me gently back and forth. 

Suddenly he's pulling out of me, until only the very tip of his cock is still inside me. I want to sob. No, oh god please, Methos, no more. Let me come. I need it so badly, I'm going to die from need if you stop now. The very thought makes me panic, all my muscles tensing. 

His hand moves to my cock, his fist closing around me and squeezing painfully hard. The pain is like fire burning through me, mixing with the need until I can't separate one from the other. His voice is harsh in my ear, 

"This is mine. I'll do anything I like with it." 

His fingernails scrape slowly down the length of my trapped cock and I cry out unintelligibly, twisting helplessly in his arms. Methos _stop_ , please. The pain is intense, intimate, and I am shuddering in his strong embrace, letting him hold me up as his cocks thrusts home in my body. 

I'm arching back against him, my head pushing into his shoulder. He's whispering fiercely in my ear, and I make myself listen to his voice, fighting off the growing need to beg for release. 

"I love you. You're so good, love, so good for me. Beautiful, oh yes, so brave. I've made you wait a long time, haven't I Duncan? You are so strong, I don't want to let you come. I want it to go on forever... " 

I'm whimpering continuously now, I can't help it, can't control the sounds coming out of my mouth or the violent shuddering of my body. All I can think of is how badly I need to come, that I will lose my mind if he doesn't set me free soon. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to stay on my feet. 

His hand on the center of my back pitches me forward, I catch myself on the edge of the desk, and his cock drives into to me deeper, filling me up with hot, burning pleasure. My hips buck back against him mindlessly, begging him not to stop, to fuck me harder. Ah, god, Methos, Methos, yes, like this, hard, fast. 

Something inside me reaches it's zenith, I can't tell if it's the pleasure or the pain, but I shatter, gulping in air to speak. 

" _Please_... Please, please, please," I cry out brokenly, bucking back against him and fighting his grip on my hips. 

"I love you," he pants softly in my ear, reaching for the drawstring and pulling the slip knot. The tight cord unwinds and I hear myself shout, the orgasm tearing through me even before he's released me completely. I'm aware of his arms locked around my middle, holding me up, and his cock thrusting violently into my body. I'm falling, coming apart in his arms, coming and coming until there is nothing but the rushing of my blood in my veins and the pure joy of release. 

He pulls me back against him before I can fall, pulling gently out of my body and lowering us to the floor. 

I am overcome with emotion, I can't stop shaking. I whisper his name, aware that I can suddenly say it again, without fearing that he will leave me. He wraps himself around me, pulling me back against him. He holds me protectively, his body covering my shaking shoulders. 

"I love you, Duncan." 

How beautiful. His voice is so gentle, so different from the way he spoke to me a moment ago. I smile, turning over in his arms to look up at him. I want to tell him how much he means to me, but all I can say is his name. 

"Methos." 

He grins back at me, brushing back the hair plastered to my forehead. "Yes?" 

I shake my head, too overcome to try to find the words to tell him what it felt like to give him total power over me. I can only say his name, a synonym for power. 

"Methos." 

He is smiling at me, cradling my shoulders in his arms. The look in his eyes is priceless, and now I know that I have convinced him that I love him, as no other ever has. 

"Kiss me?" I beg him, turning my face up for his lips. 

"Oh yes," he agrees, covering my lips softly with his. 

I stir in his arms, reaching to taste him, to tell him with my mouth everything he has done to me. I am so happy, almost delirious. I'm falling again, getting lost in the joy of kissing him, the happiness flowing through my veins like a drug. 

"I love you," I tell him, melting against him in utter contentment. 

"Shh, I know. Come curl up in bed with me, the floor is getting harder." 

We're on the floor, in the space between the desk and the wall of barge. For some reason I'm confused to still be here, where he put me. He gets up, dragging me to my feet and leading me across the room and up the stairs to bed, guiding me with a hand at the small of my back. 

Crawling into bed I curl against his side, pressing my cheek to the center of his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, strong and regular, and the quiet rasp of his breath. His fingers stroke the spot on my neck where his teeth bit deepest, sending a little shiver through me. I feel more content than I ever have, I feel so light, almost empty, except for my adoration of him. 

"Did I please you?" I whisper against his skin. I know that I did, that I have given him something rare and permanent, but I want to hear him tell me so. 

"Oh yes," his arms tighten around me, holding me close. 

"You devastate me." 

"It's mutual, Highlander, I love you," he answers softly, his lips brushing the top of my head. 

"What you do to me, Methos, I can't even explain it..." I wish that I could, that I could find the words to say what it feels like to give myself to him. I want him to know so badly. 

"I know," he assures me softly, stroking my hair. 

"You do, don't you?" I bend my neck back to look up at him, searching his beautiful, serious, eyes. My hand reaches up to touch him, fingertips stroking his jaw. 

He smiles, his voice gentle, "Oh yes. But you are exceptional. What you give me is like no other. It's intoxicating, life affirming, liberating, beautiful." 

He's found the exact words I wanted to say to him. It's all those things, and even more. Giving myself to him frees me, takes away all the emptiness inside me, fills me up with his strength, makes me whole. I love him more than I ever dreamed it possible to love. 

"Yes, exactly," I reach up to kiss him softly, savoring the press of his lips against mine. 

He pulls the covers up around us, gathering me close in his arms. 

"Sleep, Highlander," he whispers, leaning down to press his lips to my cheek. 

A nap sounds like a very good idea, I'm exhausted. I smile, settling against him. He is my lover, my companion, my life, and I have never felt more at home. There is no place that could be more right than here in his arms. Anywhere I can be with him is home. 

~-~

_Moving stranger, does it really matter?_

_As long as you're not afraid to feel_

_Touch me, hold me, how my open arms ache_

_Try to fall for me_

_How I'm moved, how you move me_

_With your beauty's potency_

_You give me life, please don't let me go_

_You crush the lily in my soul_

_Moving liquid, yes, you are just as water_

_you flow around all that comes in your way_

_don't think it over, it always takes you over_

_and sets your spirit dancing._

Lyrics borrowed without permission from Kate Bush 

~-~


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